The killing of the wooers.
Then Odysseus of many counsels stripped him of his rags and leaped on
to the great threshold with his bow and quiver full of arrows, and
poured forth all the swift shafts there before his feet, and spake
among the wooers:
“Lo, now is this terrible trial ended at last; and now will I know of
another mark, which never yet man has smitten, if perchance I may hit
it and Apollo grant me renown.”
With that he pointed the bitter arrow at Antinous. Now he was about
raising to his lips a fair twy-eared chalice of gold, and behold, he
was handling it to drink of the wine, and death was far from his
thoughts. For who among men at feast would deem that one man amongst so
many, how hardy soever he were, would bring on him foul death and black
fate? But Odysseus aimed and smote him with the arrow in the throat,
and the point passed clean out through his delicate neck, and he fell
sidelong and the cup dropped from his hand as he was smitten, and at
once through his nostrils there came up a thick jet of slain man’s
blood, and quickly he spurned the table from him with his foot, and
spilt the food on the ground, and the bread and the roast flesh were
defiled. Then the wooers raised a clamour through the halls when they
saw the man fallen, and they leaped from their high seats, as men
stirred by fear, all through the hall, peering everywhere along the
well-builded walls, and nowhere was there a shield or mighty spear to
lay hold on. Then they reviled Odysseus with angry words:
“Stranger, thou shootest at men to thy hurt. Never again shalt thou
enter other lists, now is utter doom assured thee. Yea, for now hast
thou slain the man that was far the best of all the noble youths in
Ithaca; wherefore vultures shall devour thee here.”
So each one spake, for indeed they thought that Odysseus had not slain
him wilfully; but they knew not in their folly that on their own heads,
each and all of them, the bands of death had been made fast. Then
Odysseus of many counsels looked fiercely on them, and spake:
“Ye dogs, ye said in your hearts that I should never more come home
from the land of the Trojans, in that ye wasted my house, and lay with
the maidservants by force, and traitorously wooed my wife while I was
yet alive, and ye had no fear of the gods, that hold the wide heaven,
nor of the indignation of men hereafter. But now the bands of death
have been made fast upon you one and all.”
Even so he spake, and pale fear gat hold on the limbs of all, and each
man looked about, where he might shun utter doom. And Eurymachus alone
answered him, and spake: “If thou art indeed Odysseus of Ithaca, come
home again, with right thou speakest thus, of all that the Achaeans
have wrought, many infatuate deeds in thy halls and many in the field.
Howbeit, he now lies dead that is to blame for all, Antinous; for he
brought all these things upon us, not as longing very greatly for the
marriage nor needing it sore, but with another purpose, that Cronion
has not fulfilled for him, namely, that he might himself be king over
all the land of stablished Ithaca, and he was to have lain in wait for
thy son and killed him. But now he is slain after his deserving, and do
thou spare thy people, even thine own; and we will hereafter go about
the township and yield thee amends for all that has been eaten and
drunken in thy halls, each for himself bringing atonement of twenty
oxen worth, and requiting thee in gold and bronze till thy heart is
softened, but till then none may blame thee that thou art angry.”
Then Odysseus of many counsels looked fiercely on him, and said:
“Eurymachus, not even if ye gave me all your heritage, all that ye now
have, and whatsoever else ye might in any wise add thereto, not even so
would I henceforth hold my hands from slaying, ere the wooers had paid
for all their transgressions. And now the choice lies before you,
whether to fight in fair battle or to fly, if any may avoid death and
the fates. But there be some, methinks, that shall not escape from
utter doom.”
He spake, and their knees were straightway loosened and their hearts
melted within them. And Eurymachus spake among them yet again:
“Friends, it is plain that this man will not hold his unconquerable
hands, but now that he has caught up the polished bow and quiver, he
will shoot from the smooth threshold, till he has slain us all;
wherefore let us take thought for the delight of battle. Draw your
blades, and hold up the tables to ward off the arrows of swift death,
and let us all have at him with one accord, and drive him, if it may
be, from the threshold and the doorway and then go through the city,
and quickly would the cry be raised. Thereby should this man soon have
shot his latest bolt.”
Therewith he drew his sharp two-edged sword of bronze, and leapt on
Odysseus with a terrible cry, but in the same moment goodly Odysseus
shot the arrow forth and struck him on the breast by the pap, and drave
the swift shaft into his liver. So he let the sword fall from his hand,
and grovelling over the table he bowed and fell, and spilt the food and
the two-handled cup on the floor. And in his agony he smote the ground
with his brow, and spurning with both his feet he overthrew the high
seat, and the mist of death was shed upon his eyes.
Then Amphinomus made at renowned Odysseus, setting straight at him, and
drew his sharp sword, if perchance he might make him give ground from
the door. But Telemachus was beforehand with him, and cast and smote
him from behind with a bronze-shod spear between the shoulders, and
drave it out through the breast, and he fell with a crash and struck
the ground full with his forehead. Then Telemachus sprang away, leaving
the long spear fixed in Amphinomus, for he greatly dreaded lest one of
the Achaeans might run upon him with his blade, and stab him as he drew
forth the spear, or smite him with a down stroke[38] of the sword. So
he started and ran and came quickly to his father, and stood by him,
and spake winged words:
[38] Or, reading προπρηνέα, smite him as he stooped over the corpse.
“Father, lo, now I will bring thee a shield and two spears and a helmet
all of bronze, close fitting on the temples, and when I return I will
arm myself, and likewise give arms to the swineherd and to the neatherd
yonder: for it is better to be clad in full armour.”
And Odysseus of many counsels answered him saying: “Run and bring them
while I have arrows to defend me, lest they thrust me from the doorway,
one man against them all.”
So he spake, and Telemachus obeyed his dear father, and went forth to
the chamber, where his famous weapons were lying. Thence he took out
four shields and eight spears, and four helmets of bronze, with thick
plumes of horse hair, and he started to bring them and came quickly to
his father. Now he girded the gear of bronze about his own body first,
and in like manner the two thralls did on the goodly armour, and stood
beside the wise and crafty Odysseus. Now he, so long as he had arrows
to defend him, kept aiming and smote the wooers one by one in his
house, and they fell thick one upon another. But when the arrows failed
the prince in his archery, he leaned his bow against the doorpost of
the stablished hall, against the shining faces of the entrance. As for
him he girt his fourfold shield about his shoulders and bound on his
mighty head a well wrought helmet, with horse hair crest, and terribly
the plume waved aloft. And he grasped two mighty spears tipped with
bronze.
Now there was in the well-builded wall a certain postern raised above
the floor, and there by the topmost level of the threshold of the
stablished hall, was a way into an open passage, closed by well-fitted
folding doors. So Odysseus bade the goodly swineherd stand near thereto
and watch the way, for thither there was but one approach. Then Agelaus
spake among them, and declared his word to all:
“Friends, will not some man climb up to the postern, and give word to
the people, and a cry would be raised straightway; so should this man
soon have shot his latest bolt?”
Then Melanthius, the goatherd, answered him, saying: “It may in no wise
be, prince Agelaus; for the fair gate of the courtyard is terribly
nigh, and perilous is the entrance to the passage, and one man, if he
were valiant, might keep back a host. But come, let me bring you armour
from the inner chamber, that ye may be clad in hauberks, for, methinks,
within that room and not elsewhere did Odysseus and his renowned son
lay by the arms.”
Therewith Melanthius, the goatherd, climbed up by the clerestory of the
hall to the inner chambers of Odysseus, whence he took twelve shields
and as many spears, and as many helmets of bronze with thick plumes of
horse hair, and he came forth and brought them speedily, and gave them
to the wooers. Then the knees of Odysseus were loosened and his heart
melted within him, when he saw them girding on the armour and
brandishing the long spears in their hands, and great, he saw, was the
adventure. Quickly he spake to Telemachus winged words:
“Telemachus, sure I am that one of the women in the halls is stirring
up an evil battle against us, or perchance it is Melanthius.”
Then wise Telemachus answered him: “My father, it is I that have erred
herein and none other is to blame, for I left the well-fitted door of
the chamber open, and there has been one of them but too quick to spy
it. Go now, goodly Eumaeus, and close the door of the chamber, and mark
if it be indeed one of the women that does this mischief, or
Melanthius, son of Dolius, as methinks it is.”
Even so they spake one to the other. And Melanthius, the goatherd, went
yet again to the chamber to bring the fair armour. But the goodly
swineherd was ware thereof, and quickly he spake to Odysseus who stood
nigh him:
“Son of Laertes, of the seed of Zeus, Odysseus, of many devices, lo,
there again is that baleful man, whom we ourselves suspect, going to
the chamber; do thou tell me truly, shall I slay him if I prove the
better man, or bring him hither to thee, that he may pay for the many
transgressions that he has devised in thy house?”
Then Odysseus of many counsels answered saying: “Verily, I and
Telemachus will keep the proud wooers within the halls, for all their
fury, but do ye twain tie his feet and arms behind his back and cast
him into the chamber, and close the doors after you,[39] and make fast
to his body a twisted rope, and drag him up the lofty pillar till he be
near the roof beams, that he may hang there and live for long, and
suffer grievous torment.”
[39] Or, as Mr. Merry suggests in his note, “tie boards behind him” as
a method of torture. He compares Aristoph. Thesm. 931, 940.
So he spake, and they gave good heed and hearkened. So they went forth
to the chamber, but the goatherd who was within knew not of their
coming. Now he was seeking for the armour in the secret place of the
chamber, but they twain stood in waiting on either side the doorposts.
And when Melanthius, the goatherd, was crossing the threshold with a
goodly helm in one hand, and in the other a wide shield and an old,
stained with rust, the shield of the hero Laertes that he bare when he
was young—but at that time it was laid by, and the seams of the straps
were loosened,—then the twain rushed on him and caught him, and dragged
him in by the hair, and cast him on the floor in sorrowful plight, and
bound him hand and foot in a bitter bond, tightly winding each limb
behind his back, even as the son of Laertes bade them, the steadfast
goodly Odysseus. And they made fast to his body a twisted rope, and
dragged him up the lofty pillar till he came near the roof beams. Then
didst thou speak to him and gird at him, swineherd Eumaeus:
“Now in good truth, Melanthius, shalt thou watch all night, lying in a
soft bed as beseems thee, nor shall the early-born Dawn escape thy ken,
when she comes forth from the streams of Oceanus, on her golden throne,
in the hour when thou art wont to drive the goats to make a meal for
the wooers in the halls.”
So he was left there, stretched tight in the deadly bond. But they
twain got into their harness, and closed the shining door, and went to
Odysseus, wise and crafty chief. There they stood breathing fury, four
men by the threshold, while those others within the halls were many and
good warriors. Then Athene, daughter of Zeus, drew nigh them, like
Mentor in fashion and in voice, and Odysseus was glad when he saw her
and spake, saying:
“Mentor, ward from us hurt, and remember me thy dear companion, that
befriended thee often, and thou art of like age with me.”
So he spake, deeming the while that it was Athene, summoner of the
host. But the wooers on the other side shouted in the halls, and first
Agelaus son of Damastor rebuked Athene, saying:
“Mentor, let not the speech of Odysseus beguile thee to fight against
the wooers, and to succour him. For methinks that on this wise we shall
work our will. When we shall have slain these men, father and son,
thereafter shalt thou perish with them, such deeds thou art set on
doing in these halls; nay, with thine own head shalt thou pay the
price. But when with the sword we shall have overcome your violence, we
will mingle all thy possessions, all that thou hast at home or in the
field, with the wealth of Odysseus, and we will not suffer thy sons nor
thy daughters to dwell in the halls, nor thy good wife to gad about in
the town of Ithaca.”
So spake he, and Athene was mightily angered at heart, and chid
Odysseus in wrathful words: “Odysseus, thou hast no more steadfast
might nor any prowess, as when for nine whole years continually thou
didst battle with the Trojans for high born Helen, of the white arms,
and many men thou slewest in terrible warfare, and by thy device the
wide-wayed city of Priam was taken. How then, now that thou art come to
thy house and thine own possessions, dost thou bewail thee and art of
feeble courage to stand before the wooers? Nay, come hither, friend,
and stand by me, and I will show thee a thing, that thou mayest know
what manner of man is Mentor, son of Alcimus, to repay good deeds in
the ranks of foemen.”
She spake, and gave him not yet clear victory in full, but still for a
while made trial of the might and prowess of Odysseus and his renowned
son. As for her she flew up to the roof timber of the murky hall, in
such fashion as a swallow flies, and there sat down.
Now Agelaus, son of Damastor, urged on the wooers, and likewise
Eurynomus and Amphimedon and Demoptolemus and Peisandrus son of
Polyctor, and wise Polybus, for these were in valiancy far the best men
of the wooers, that still lived and fought for their lives; for the
rest had fallen already beneath the bow and the thick rain of arrows.
Then Agelaus spake among them, and made known his word to all:
“Friends, now at last will this man hold his unconquerable hands. Lo,
now has Mentor left him and spoken but vain boasts, and these remain
alone at the entrance of the doors. Wherefore now, throw not your long
spears all together, but come, do ye six cast first, if perchance Zeus
may grant us to smite Odysseus and win renown. Of the rest will we take
no heed, so soon as that man shall have fallen.”
So he spake and they all cast their javelins, as he bade them, eagerly;
but behold, Athene so wrought that they were all in vain. One man smote
the doorpost of the stablished hall, and another the well-fastened
door, and the ashen spear of yet another wooer, heavy with bronze,
stuck fast in the wall. So when they had avoided all the spears of the
wooers, the steadfast goodly Odysseus began first to speak among them:
“Friends, now my word is that we too cast and hurl into the press of
the wooers, that are mad to slay and strip us beyond the measure of
their former iniquities.”
So he spake, and they all took good aim and threw their sharp spears,
and Odysseus smote Demoptolemus, and Telemachus Euryades, and the
swineherd slew Elatus, and the neatherd Peisandrus. Thus they all bit
the wide floor with their teeth, and the wooers fell back into the
inmost part of the hall. But the others dashed upon them and drew forth
the shafts from the bodies of the dead.
Then once more the wooers threw their sharp spears eagerly; but behold,
Athene so wrought that many of them were in vain. One man smote the
door-post of the stablished hall, and another the well-fastened door,
and the ashen spear of another wooer, heavy with bronze, struck in the
wall. Yet Amphimedon hit Telemachus on the hand by the wrist lightly,
and the shaft of bronze wounded the surface of the skin. And Ctesippus
grazed the shoulder of Eumaeus with a long spear high above the shield,
and the spear flew over and fell to the ground. Then again Odysseus,
the wise and crafty, he and his men cast their swift spears into the
press of the wooers, and now once more Odysseus, waster of cities,
smote Eurydamas, and Telemachus Amphimedon, and the swineherd slew
Polybus, and last, the neatherd struck Ctesippus in the breast and
boasted over him, saying:
“O son of Polytherses, thou lover of jeering, never give place at all
to folly to speak so big, but leave thy case to the gods, since in
truth they are far mightier than thou. This gift is thy recompense for
the ox-foot that thou gavest of late to the divine Odysseus, when he
went begging through the house.”
So spake the keeper of the shambling kine. Next Odysseus wounded the
son of Damastor in close fight with his long spear, and Telemachus
wounded Leocritus son of Euenor, right in the flank with his lance, and
drave the bronze point clean through, that he fell prone and struck the
ground full with his forehead. Then Athene held up her destroying aegis
on high from the roof, and their minds were scared, and they fled
through the hall, like a drove of kine that the flitting gadfly falls
upon and scatters hither and thither in spring time, when the long days
begin. But the others set on like vultures of crooked claws and curved
beak, that come forth from the mountains and dash upon smaller birds,
and these scour low in the plain, stooping in terror from the clouds,
while the vultures pounce on them and slay them, and there is no help
nor way of flight, and men are glad at the sport; even so did the
company of Odysseus set upon the wooers and smite them right and left
through the hall; and there rose a hideous moaning as their heads were
smitten, and the floor all ran with blood.
Now Leiodes took hold of the knees of Odysseus eagerly, and besought
him and spake winged words: “I entreat thee by thy knees, Odysseus, and
do thou show mercy on me and have pity. For never yet, I say, have I
wronged a maiden in thy halls by froward word or deed, nay I bade the
other wooers refrain, whoso of them wrought thus. But they hearkened
not unto me to keep their hands from evil. Wherefore they have met a
shameful death through their own infatuate deeds. Yet I, the soothsayer
among them, that have wrought no evil, shall fall even as they, for no
grace abides for good deeds done.”
Then Odysseus of many counsels looked askance at him, and said: “If
indeed thou dost avow thee to be the soothsayer of these men, thou art
like to have often prayed in the halls that the issue of a glad return
might be far from me, and that my dear wife should follow thee and bear
thee children; wherefore thou shalt not escape the bitterness of
death.”
Therewith he caught up a sword in his strong hand, that lay where
Agelaus had let it fall to the ground when he was slain, and drave it
clean through his neck, and as he yet spake his head fell even to the
dust.
But the son of Terpes, the minstrel, still sought how he might shun
black fate, Phemius, who sang among the wooers of necessity. He stood
with the loud lyre in his hand hard by the postern gate, and his heart
was divided within him, whether he should slip forth from the hall and
sit down by the well-wrought altar of great Zeus of the household
court, whereon Laertes and Odysseus had burnt many pieces of the thighs
of oxen, or should spring forward and beseech Odysseus by his knees.
And as he thought thereupon this seemed to him the better way, to
embrace the knees of Odysseus, son of Laertes. So he laid the hollow
lyre on the ground between the mixing-bowl and the high seat inlaid
with silver, and himself sprang forward and seized Odysseus by the
knees, and besought him and spake winged words:
“I entreat thee by thy knees, Odysseus, and do thou show mercy on me
and have pity. It will be a sorrow to thyself in the aftertime if thou
slayest me who am a minstrel, and sing before gods and men. Yea none
has taught me but myself, and the god has put into my heart all manner
of lays, and methinks I sing to thee as to a god, wherefore be not
eager to cut off my head. And Telemachus will testify of this, thine
own dear son, that not by mine own will or desire did I resort to thy
house to sing to the wooers at their feasts; but being so many and
stronger than I they led me by constraint.”
So he spake, and the mighty prince Telemachus heard him and quickly
spake to his father at his side: “Hold thy hand, and wound not this
blameless man with the sword; and let us save also the henchman Medon,
that ever had charge of me in our house when I was a child, unless
perchance Philoetius or the swineherd have already slain him, or he
hath met thee in thy raging through the house.”
So he spake, and Medon, wise of heart, heard him. For he lay crouching
beneath a high seat, clad about in the new-flayed hide of an ox and
shunned black fate. So he rose up quickly from under the seat, and cast
off the ox-hide, and sprang forth and caught Telemachus by the knees,
and besought him and spake winged words:
“Friend, here am I; prithee stay thy hand and speak to thy father, lest
he harm me with the sharp sword in the greatness of his strength, out
of his anger for the wooers that wasted his possessions in the halls,
and in their folly held thee in no honour.”
And Odysseus of many counsels smiled on him and said: “Take courage,
for lo, he has saved thee and delivered thee, that thou mayst know in
thy heart, and tell it even to another, how far more excellent are good
deeds than evil. But go forth from the halls and sit down in the court
apart from the slaughter, thou and the full-voiced minstrel, till I
have accomplished all that I must needs do in the house.”
Therewith the two went forth and gat them from the hall. So they sat
down by the altar of great Zeus, peering about on every side, still
expecting death. And Odysseus peered all through the house, to see if
any man was yet alive and hiding away to shun black fate. But he found
all the sort of them fallen in their blood in the dust, like fishes
that the fishermen have drawn forth in the meshes of the net into a
hollow of the beach from out the grey sea, and all the fish, sore
longing for the salt sea waves, are heaped upon the sand, and the sun
shines forth and takes their life away; so now the wooers lay heaped
upon each other. Then Odysseus of many counsels spake to Telemachus:
“Telemachus, go, call me the nurse Eurycleia, that I may tell her a
word that is on my mind.”
So he spake, and Telemachus obeyed his dear father, and smote at the
door, and spake to the nurse Eurycleia: “Up now, aged wife, that
overlookest all the women servants in our halls, come hither, my father
calls thee and has somewhat to say to thee.”
Even so he spake, and wingless her speech remained, and she opened the
doors of the fair-lying halls, and came forth, and Telemachus led the
way before her. So she found Odysseus among the bodies of the dead,
stained with blood and soil of battle, like a lion that has eaten of an
ox of the homestead and goes on his way, and all his breast and his
cheeks on either side are flecked with blood, and he is terrible to
behold; even so was Odysseus stained, both hands and feet. Now the
nurse, when she saw the bodies of the dead and the great gore of blood,
made ready to cry aloud for joy, beholding so great an adventure. But
Odysseus checked and held her in her eagerness, and uttering his voice
spake to her winged words:
“Within thine own heart rejoice, old nurse, and be still, and cry not
aloud; for it is an unholy thing to boast over slain men. Now these
hath the destiny of the gods overcome, and their own cruel deeds, for
they honoured none of earthly men, neither the bad nor yet the good,
that came among them. Wherefore they have met a shameful death through
their own infatuate deeds. But come, tell me the tale of the women in
my halls, which of them dishonour me, and which be guiltless.”
Then the good nurse Eurycleia answered him: “Yea now, my child, I will
tell thee all the truth. Thou hast fifty women-servants in thy halls,
that we have taught the ways of housewifery, how to card wool and to
bear bondage. Of these twelve in all have gone the way of shame, and
honour not me, nor their lady Penelope. And Telemachus hath but newly
come to his strength, and his mother suffered him not to take command
over the women in this house. But now, let me go aloft to the shining
upper chamber, and tell all to thy wife, on whom some god hath sent a
sleep.”
And Odysseus of many counsels answered her saying: “Wake her not yet,
but bid the women come hither, who in time past behaved themselves
unseemly.”
So he spake, and the old wife passed through the hall, to tell the
women and to hasten their coming. Then Odysseus called to him
Telemachus, and the neatherd, and the swineherd, and spake to them
winged words:
“Begin ye now to carry out the dead, and bid the women help you, and
thereafter cleanse the fair high seats and the tables with water and
porous sponges. And when ye have set all the house in order, lead the
maidens without the stablished hall, between the vaulted room and the
goodly fence of the court, and there slay them with your long blades,
till they shall have all given up the ghost and forgotten the love that
of old they had at the bidding of the wooers, in secret dalliance.”
Even so he spake, and the women came all in a crowd together, making a
terrible lament and shedding big tears. So first they carried forth the
bodies of the slain, and set them beneath the gallery of the fenced
court, and propped them one on another; and Odysseus himself hasted the
women and directed them, and they carried forth the dead perforce.
Thereafter they cleansed the fair high seats and the tables with water
and porous sponges. And Telemachus, and the neatherd, and the
swineherd, scraped with spades the floor of the well-builded house,
and, behold, the maidens carried all forth and laid it without the
doors.
Now when they had made an end of setting the hall in order, they led
the maidens forth from the stablished hall, and drove them up in a
narrow space between the vaulted room and the goodly fence of the
court, whence none might avoid; and wise Telemachus began to speak to
his fellows, saying: “God forbid that I should take these women’s lives
by a clean death, these that have poured dishonour on my head and on my
mother, and have lain with the wooers.”
With that word he tied the cable of a dark-prowed ship to a great
pillar and flung it round the vaulted room, and fastened it aloft, that
none might touch the ground with her feet. And even as when thrushes,
long of wing, or doves fall into a net that is set in a thicket, as
they seek to their roosting-place, and a loathly bed harbours them,
even so the women held their heads all in a row, and about all their
necks nooses were cast, that they might die by the most pitiful death.
And they writhed with their feet for a little space, but for no long
while.
Then they led out Melanthius through the doorway and the court, and cut
off his nostrils and his ears with the pitiless sword, and drew forth
his vitals for the dogs to devour raw, and cut off his hands and feet
in their cruel anger.
Thereafter they washed their hands and feet, and went into the house to
Odysseus, and all the adventure was over. So Odysseus called to the
good nurse Eurycleia: “Bring sulphur, old nurse, that cleanses all
pollution and bring me fire, that I may purify the house with sulphur,
and do thou bid Penelope come here with her handmaidens, and tell all
the women to hasten into the hall.”
Then the good nurse Eurycleia made answer: “Yea, my child, herein thou
hast spoken aright. But go to, let me bring thee a mantle and a doublet
for raiment, and stand not thus in the halls with thy broad shoulders
wrapped in rags; it were blame in thee so to do.”
And Odysseus of many counsels answered her saying: “First let a fire
now be made me in the hall.”
So he spake, and the good nurse Eurycleia was not slow to obey, but
brought fire and brimstone; and Odysseus thoroughly purged the women’s
chamber and the great hall and the court.
Then the old wife went through the fair halls of Odysseus to tell the
women, and to hasten their coming. So they came forth from their
chamber with torches in their hands, and fell about Odysseus, and
embraced him and kissed and clasped his head and shoulders and his
hands lovingly, and a sweet longing came on him to weep and moan, for
he remembered them every one.